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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008121">Another Year Older</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJK/pseuds/JJK'>JJK</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breakfast in Bed, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky's birthday fics, Canon insertion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mob Boss Steve Rogers, Modern Bucky Barnes, Nomad Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-war flashbacks, Retired AU, Retired Steve Rogers, Shrunkyclunks, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, including:</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:48:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,057</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJK/pseuds/JJK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fic prompts written for Bucky's birthday, featuring: domestic bliss / post-TWS recovery / shrunkyclunks / mob boss Steve / motorcycles / Bucky's love of books / service dogs / and Steve's terrible cooking. </p><p> </p><p>Table of contents in Chapter 1, with more info given in each chapter summary.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Table of Contents</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>unbeta'd and originally written for twitter, so please excuse any spelling mistakes 💙💙</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong> <strong>Ch 1. Table of Contents</strong> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 2. Breakfast in Bed</strong>
</p><p>Retired AU / Breakfast in bed and Steve’s terrible cooking. / 750 words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 3. For the Love of Books</strong>
</p><p>Post-TWS / Bucky struggles with reading after everything Hydra did to him, so Steve helps out / 1.9k words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 4. Have Your Cake &amp; Eat It</strong>
</p><p>Shrunkyclunks AU / An important discussion about cake frosting / 500 words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 5. Winter &amp; Summer</strong>
</p><p>Post-TWS Recovery fic / Bucky gets a service dog for his PTSD / 1.2k words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 6. Birthday Wish</strong>
</p><p>Shrunkyclunks &amp; Motorcycles / Mechanic and veteran Bucky meets ex-Captain America Steve who’s biking across the country / 1k words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 7. Sunrise</strong>
</p><p>Post-TWS / Retirement, recovery, and restless nightmares / 1.5k words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 8. Tales from Wakanda</strong>
</p><p>Canon Insertion / Bucky’s 100th Birthday in Wakanda, 2017 / 500 words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 9. Lucky Strike</strong>
</p><p>Canon Insertion / March 10th, 1944. Somewhere behind enemy lines / 750 words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 10. Coney Island</strong>
</p><p>Post-TWS / Coney Island then vs now / 1.1k words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 11. Cherry Blossom</strong>
</p><p>Shrunkyclunks / Japanese food and a birthday surprise / 1.1k words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 12. Traditions</strong>
</p><p>Shrunkyclunks / It’s a Barnes family tradition to have whatever you want for breakfast on your birthday / 700 words</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Ch 13. All I Want</strong>
</p><p>Mob AU / Mob Boss Steve spoils Bucky on his birthday / 1.8k words</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Breakfast in Bed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Retired AU / Breakfast in bed and Steve’s terrible cooking. / 750 words</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Prompt from @foxybucky: Bucky waking up to birthday flowers 💐😍👀 (also an atrociously cooked breakfast from Steve. He tried lol)</em>
  </em>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>Waking up to an empty bed wasn’t a surprise. Steve hadn’t been able to sleep past sunrise since the serum and trying to stop him from going for a morning run left him with lots of restless energy—like trying to keep a puppy indoors on a rainy day, which wasn’t good for anyone. What <em><em>was</em></em> surprising was the noises coming from the kitchen. Steve didn’t cook. He couldn’t cook. His kitchen had consisted of protein shakes, nutrient bars and a drawer full of take-out menus when Bucky had moved in. So, hearing the unmistakable sound of something frying drifting in from the kitchen, accompanied by the smell of something starting to burn, didn’t exactly fill Bucky with confidence. He tensed, waiting for the smoke alarm to go off, and sure enough . . .</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Bleep, bleep, bleep.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>“It’s fine, Bucky! Don’t come in!” Steve shouted immediately and Bucky heard the kitchen door slam shut. The fire alarm stopped beeping shortly afterwards, and Bucky wasn’t convinced Steve hadn’t just disabled it. He snorted a laugh and rolled out of bed to slip into the ensuite to fix his bedhead and clean his teeth. He was just climbing back under the covers as Steve appeared in the doorway with a laden breakfast tray balanced on one hand, a sheepish expression on his face, and something hidden behind his back.</p>
<p>“Happy birthday, Buck,” he beamed, setting the tray carefully on Bucky’s lap before producing a huge bunch of flowers with a flourish. Blooms of vibrant colours tied together with a delicate silk ribbon and they smelt delightful; a damn sight better than the pancakes which managed to look both undercooked <em><em>and</em></em> burnt did anyway.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Steve, they’re beautiful.”</p>
<p>“Not as beautiful as you,” Steve replied— like the absolute sap that he was—leaning forwards to pull Bucky into a kiss. “I, er, tried to cook.” He pulled back, sheepish, and bent his knee to sit by Bucky’s legs on the bed. “Not sure how edible it will be.”</p>
<p>“It’s the thought that counts,” Bucky assured him, dutifully picking up his knife and fork and staring down at the plate. Steve had really tried his best, bless him. The pancakes were stacked high, sandwiched with what Bucky assumed was meant to be whipped cream frosting (that had curdled, just slightly). More whipped cream was dolloped on top, and the whole plate had been liberally covered with sprinkles. Bucky cut into a slightly less burnt corner of the pancake that looked like it might actually be cooked through and lifted it to his lips. Bucky had eaten a lot of questionable things in his time, Bucky reasoned with himself, so he forced himself not to hesitate before he shovelled it into his mouth. Steve winced, watching Bucky’s reaction closely.</p>
<p>“It’s awful isn’t it?” Steve looked deflated and Bucky knew he absolutely couldn’t tell him the truth.</p>
<p>“It’s wonderful, Steve. Because <em><em>you</em></em> cooked it for <em><em>me</em></em>,” Bucky dropped the cutlery on the plate and reached up to cup his hand around Steve’s jaw.</p>
<p>“How bad is it really?” Steve pressed.</p>
<p>“Honestly? It’s actually not as bad as I was expecting,” Bucky answered with a smirk. “Thank you for trying.”</p>
<p>“Want to go out for brunch instead?” Steve asked.</p>
<p>“Will you be offended if I say yes?” Bucky blinked up, a look of innocence on his face. Steve stole the fork to taste a bite, and Bucky could only laugh at the look of revulsion that crossed his face.</p>
<p>“Oh god.” He grabbed the plate back. “I can’t believe I made you eat that!”</p>
<p>“Burnt eggs and doughy pancakes aren’t <em><em>that</em></em> bad,” Bucky tried to reason.</p>
<p>“No, no, we’re eating out and I’m never cooking again.” Steve shook his head. Bucky just laughed and pulled Steve in for another kiss.</p>
<p>“I can think of something we might want to do first,” Bucky wagged his eyebrows, playfully. “Just—for my peace of mind—” he hesitated before they went any further. “The kitchen isn’t actually on fire, is it?”</p>
<p>“No. But I might need to buy you some new frying pans,” Steve winced again.</p>
<p>“It’s a good thing I love you,” Bucky laughed. He scooped a finger full of frosting and swiped it on Steve’s nose in retaliation for ruining his pans. Steve got him back by smearing a line of frosting across Bucky’s cheekbone, but then proceeded to kiss it clean, which Bucky was more than happy to allow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. For the Love of Books</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Post-TWS / Bucky struggles with reading after everything Hydra did to him, so Steve helps out / 1.9k words</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Prompt from @winternerf: Bucky struggles with reading and/or writing - either as a result of the zapping, or maybe he has dyslexia? Steve helps him. Maybe Steve reads to him? </em>
  </em>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>It was strange and wonderful having Bucky back in his life. Steve felt simultaneously like the luckiest man alive, whilst also being wracked with guilt for everything Bucky had suffered through to make that happen. He couldn’t dwell on his own guilt though, Steve knew that wasn’t helpful for either of them. He was working through that in weekly sessions with his godsend of a therapist and focusing all of his attention at home on helping Bucky adapt to civilian life in the twenty-first century. Bucky had always dreamed of the future. He’d been obsessed with science fiction when they were younger; reading through pulp novels faster than his mom could buy them for him. Steve never read them himself, he didn’t need too—Bucky wasted no time in regaling Steve with every little detail, and Steve was pretty sure Bucky’s enthusiastic renditions were better than the original stories anyway.</p>
<p>He didn’t read anymore, though. Steve had asked for some good sci-fi recommendations from the library, classic ones which might not need a great deal of scientific understanding to enjoy. The librarians had happily plied him with an armful of books which Steve had presented to Bucky, expecting him to be overjoyed, or at least to take <em><em>some</em></em> interest in them. Bucky had run his fingers over the colourful illustrations of their covers and nodded.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he’d muttered and then forced a smile. Since then the books had stayed sitting on Bucky’s bedside table in Steve’s guest room, untouched. Steve dutifully renewed the loan when it expired, hoping it just might take a while for Bucky to warm up to them. But after the third renewal rolled around, Steve figured he really ought to find out why Bucky wasn’t reading them, and if he wasn’t interested, take them back so someone else could read them.</p>
<p>“Hey.” Steve found Bucky sitting in the big wingback chair Steve had positioned by the sunniest window in his apartment. It was where he liked to sit and read whenever he got a moment, or sketch if he was just doodling rather than using his drafting table.</p>
<p>Bucky was very quiet these days. He could enter and leave rooms without making a sound, and sit so quietly in one spot without moving that Steve sometimes didn’t notice he was there. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and not just because Bucky always used to be the centre of attention wherever he went, but because of the awful implications of why Bucky felt like he now had to be invisible.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he glanced up when Steve entered his line of sight and offered a smile. He was wearing one of Steve’s sweaters, a big navy blue one with BROOKLYN pasted across the front that Steve was pretty sure Nat had bought him as a joke, but Steve loved to wear it unironically. Bucky had it pulled down over his hands and his legs were curled up underneath him. It looked like he’d just been sitting staring out the window at nothing.</p>
<p>“You okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Alright.” Steve followed Bucky’s line of sight and stared out of the window. It was a pretty mesmerising view; straight across the East River towards the tall buildings of Manhattan.</p>
<p>After Steve had sunk the helicarriers into the Potomac and sent Hydra down to the depths for the <em><em>second</em></em> time, he’d cut all ties with SHIELD and the Avengers, and done what he’d always one daydreamed of doing; bought a huge ass apartment and focused on his artwork. The army back pay he’d accrued for his time as a ‘capsicle’ helped pay for the apartment in DUMBO, in a refurbished warehouse right on the waterfront, with stunning views from every window, rather than his art. But Steve wasn’t complaining. He worked under a pseudonym and was slowly building up his portfolio, wanting to be hired for his talent, not his name, but he’d hadn’t shied away from using Pepper’s contacts in the art world, and he was making a decent ‘pseudonym’ for himself.</p>
<p>When he’d first moved in, he’d admittedly lost time just staring out over the view, so he wasn’t <em><em>too</em></em> worried about Bucky, but he still wanted to make sure.</p>
<p>“I was going to head out to the library later,” Steve lied, trying to figure out how best to broach the subject of the books. Somehow a direct ‘why haven’t you read them yet’ didn’t seem like the way to go. “Did you want me to return any of the books I borrowed for you?”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Bucky fidgeted with the sleeves of the sweater. “Yeah, you can take them all back.”</p>
<p>“You read them all?” Steve frowned, confused as to why Bucky was lying to him. It wasn’t like he was keeping tabs on Bucky, but Steve was fairly observant by nature and he’d never noticed Bucky reading any of them.</p>
<p>“Yeah. They were great. Thanks.” Bucky shifted, looking uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“Want me to loan some more?”</p>
<p>Bucky’s gaze turned panicked and Steve suddenly worried that Bucky might be about to flee. There’d been a definitely ‘fight or flight’ aura about him since he’d turned up on Steve’s doorstep—well, looming over Steve’s bed, actually—shortly after Steve had moved into the apartment. It had definitely faded during the months he’d stayed with Steve, and now that he’d started having weekly phone calls with a heavily vetted therapist, a personal friend of Sam’s who they were certain had no links with Hydra, he’d been sending out signals that indicated he was finally settling in to stay for the long haul. But when his eyes went wide like that and Steve could hear Bucky’s heart rate tick up, it set off alarm bells in Steve’s head.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean to push.” Steve backed off, literally and figuratively, taking a step back and turning his palms out to Bucky in a soothing gesture. “I can take them back. I don’t have to get you anymore. I wasn’t forcing you to read them. It’s okay.”</p>
<p>Bucky worked his jaw, looking like he was debating to say something. He met Steve’s eyes for a fleeting millisecond before glancing away again and shifting in the chair.</p>
<p>“I want to read them,” he ground out in his new clipped, monotone way. “I can’t.”</p>
<p>“What?” Steve frowned. Were they too full of incomprehensible technobabble after all?</p>
<p>“I can’t. Read for too long.” Bucky sounded like he was fighting to say every word. “My brain.” He gestured to his head with a loopy hand wave and Steve felt his world tilt sideways.</p>
<p>“Oh god, Bucky. I didn’t think,” Steve gasped. “Fuck.”</p>
<p>“S’alright, Stevie. Not your fault.”</p>
<p>“It is. I’m a terrible friend. I didn’t even think check—of course, you’d—”</p>
<p>“Steve,” Bucky’s voice turned hard and he met Steve’s eyes for another fleeting glance, making sure Steve was paying attention to him, catching him before he slipped into a grief-stricken spiral. “Not your fault.”</p>
<p>“Sorry.” Steve gulped. Bucky flashed a sorry looking smile and then went back to staring out the window.</p>
<p>“They looked good. I used to read a lot, didn’t I?” Steve watched him tilt his head, and frown at the skyline.</p>
<p>“You did.”</p>
<p>“Thanks for remembering.”</p>
<p>Steve’s heart felt like it was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He didn’t want to just leave it at that, he hated that something else Bucky had loved so much had been stripped from him. Bucky had always, always, been reading a book or a comic when they were younger. Steve had hazy memories of straining through a fever addled haze to try and focus on Bucky reading to him—wait, that was it.</p>
<p>“I could read them to you,” Steve offered. “If you wanted?”</p>
<p>“You’d do that?”</p>
<p>“Sure, Buck. Of course, I would! Wait there!” Steve nearly face planted, skidding across the polished hardwood floors to fetch the books. He grabbed a spare cushion too and dropped it on the floor by Bucky’s feet, sitting down his back against the legs of the armchair so Bucky could see the book over Steve’s shoulder if he wanted to. “Which one first?” He held them for Bucky to choose and watched Bucky’s reflection in the window gesture to one with a pattern of reds, blues and greens on the cover. “‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’,” Steve read. “Sounds interesting.” He carefully flicked to the first page, wary that this was a library book and he couldn’t just crack the spine and bend it hold one-handed like he would have done if it were his own. “‘Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.’”</p>
<p>Steve lost track of time as he read. The sun slowly sunk below the skyline and eventually, Steve’s stomach forced them to move and forage for food. They ordered a mountain of pizzas and relocated to the much larger sectional sofa which cornered off the ‘living room’ from the open plan kitchen, living and dining space. Steve carried on reading after dinner, and Bucky shuffled closer than he ever usually sat near Steve on the couch. At one point he even twisted to lie with his head pillowed on Steve’s thigh. By then Steve, in his enthusiasm for the plot, and for Bucky’ engagement with it, Steve had forgotten to be so reverent of the book and was indeed holding it folded in one hand. He used his other hand to card through Bucky’s hair, pausing only to turn the page, until they’d finished the entire book.</p>
<p>It became their tradition. For a few hours every evening they’d stretch out on the sofa, usually, Bucky would place his hand in Steve’s lap, and they’d read. Bucky absorbed the plots and characters like a sponge and the more they read, the freer his conversations with Steve became. It was wonderful to see him drawing confidence from a hobby he thought had been lost to him, but as much as Steve loved reading to Bucky, he hated being the gatekeeper for that hobby.</p>
<p>It was Sam who suggested audiobooks and Steve could have kissed him. Bucky’s birthday was just around the corner, and Steve put in the research to find the best device, the best headphones, the best platform to download them from. When the morning of Bucky’s birthday dawned, Steve watched with delight as Bucky opened up a brand-new iPod Touch preloaded with multiple audiobook apps and downloads that Steve thought he might like and a sleek set of noise-cancelling over-ear headphones.</p>
<p>“I’ll still read to you, as often as you like,” Steve promised as Bucky scrolled through the iPod with an unreadable expression. “But this way you don’t need to rely on me.” He hoped it was okay, and watched Bucky’s micro-expressions trying to see if the gifts were a hit.</p>
<p>When Bucky lifted his eyes to Steve, there were tears in his eyes.</p>
<p>“You really loved him, didn’t you?” he asked in a quiet, scratchy voice. Steve knew by now that ‘him’ meant pre-Hydra Bucky. He nodded, feeling his own throat grow thick. “And you love me too?”</p>
<p>“I do, Bucky. I really do.”</p>
<p>Bucky nodded. A single tear slipped down his cheek and then he surprised Steve by smiling, one that looked truly genuine.</p>
<p>“Thank you.” He glanced between Steve and the gifts and Steve knew they meant more to Bucky that he’d possibly ever understand. “Thank you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Have Your Cake and Eat It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shrunkyclunks AU / An important discussion about cake frosting / 500 words</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Prompt from @madam_michael: an argument about if buttercream icing or whipped cream icing is better for cake</em>
  </em>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>“Out of curiosity,” Steve started slowly, coming to stand innocently behind where Bucky was sprawled on the couch. “Do you prefer fondant or cream frosting on cakes?”</p>
<p>Bucky tilted his head to look up at Steve and had to work hard to keep his smile under wraps. “Would this ‘curiosity’ have something to do with my birthday next week?”</p>
<p>“Hmm?” Steve feigned innocence and sat himself in the arm of the chair so he could start carding his hand through Bucky’s hair and try to distract him from his atrocious attempt at lying. “No. Not at all.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Bucky gave a knowing smirk. “Anyway, I prefer cream frosting.”</p>
<p>“Good to know.” Steve bent to place a kiss on Bucky’s head and stood up, but Bucky grabbed his arm before he could move very far.</p>
<p>“By which I mean whipped cream frosting. Not buttercream.”</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with buttercream?”</p>
<p>“What’s wrong with buttercream?!” Bucky spluttered. He put his book down and scrambled to sit up, fixing Steve with an incredulous stare. “It’s horrible! It’s rich and sickly, and it ruins the cake.”</p>
<p>“It does not ruin cakes,” Steve laughed. “It’s got flavour, unlike that whipped stuff that just tastes like sugary air. Like a disappointing meringue.”</p>
<p>“Oh, a disappointing meringue?” Bucky repeated, laughing. “Is that right?”</p>
<p>“Completely pointless. Plus, buttercream is butter and sugar, what’s not to like?”</p>
<p>“Not all of us need to eat 17,000 calories a day,” Bucky patted Steve’s stomach affectionately. “And when I indulge, I want my frosting to taste much nicer than buttercream.”</p>
<p>Steve smiled fondly but conceded the point to Bucky. “Alright, whipped it is.” He made to leave again, but Bucky still had hold of his wrist. “Hmm?” he asked.</p>
<p>“You forgot to ask the most important question,” Bucky prompted.</p>
<p>“Which is?”</p>
<p>“What flavour. You weren’t just gonna make me a boring old vanilla cake, were you?”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Steve chuckled. “I’m not making you any cake at all. You don’t want that. I’m ordering it.”</p>
<p>“From that place two blocks away, which I love so much?” Bucky’s expression brightened and he batted his eyelashes at Steve.</p>
<p>“That’s the one.”</p>
<p>“Well, in that case, I don’t want whipped or buttercream.”</p>
<p>“No?”</p>
<p>“I want their Chocolate Indulgence cake. At least two tiers, with their gooey chocolate fudge ganache.” Bucky beamed.</p>
<p>Steve tipped his head back and laughed. “Of course, you do. Not sure even my metabolism can burn through that unscathed.” He shook his head whilst Bucky just continued to grin.</p>
<p>“Worth it though.”</p>
<p>“For you? Definitely.” Steve bent to give Bucky a proper kiss this time. “I’ll go and order it now, want me to pick up anything whilst I’m there?”</p>
<p>“Some of their pistachio macarons?” Bucky fluttered his lashes again. “Pretty please.”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t respond, other than giving another fond shake of his head, but knowing Steve—which Bucky did—he’d pick up a whole boxful of macarons if he thought it would make Bucky happy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Winter & Summer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Post-TWS Recovery fic / Bucky gets a service dog for his PTSD / 1.2k words</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Prompt from @huskykatze: Steve and Bucky go to get a Service Dog for Bucky.</em>
  </em>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>Steve had first read about the program online; an organisation that teamed veterans suffering from PTSD with service dogs. To start with he hadn't been sure if Bucky would qualify for it, but their guidelines were pretty clear; they accepted people who’d served in any of the branches of the U.S. Armed Forces from any era, and who had received an honourable discharge. They probably weren't expecting veterans from the Second World War to apply in 2024, but since Bucky’s pardon had been officially processed and he was now eligible for his military pension, Steve figured there was no harm in applying.</p>
<p>He spoke to Sam about it first, double-checking to see if it sounded as good an idea as Steve thought it did, but he decided not to broach the subject with Bucky until the application had been approved. There was no point raising his hopes, Steve figured. False hope was always the cruellest kind. Bucky had been doing better of late. Shuri’s work to eradicate the triggers from Bucky’s brain had worked wonders and had finally given Bucky the confidence to move back home to Brooklyn, but he was having some—understandable—issues with readjusting to normal life.</p>
<p>Whilst Wakanda had been even more technologically advanced than modern-day New York, the streets were quieter, the population infinitely more discrete. The kids of Wakanda may have gawped and stared at Bucky, but whenever Steve had visited and they’d taken trips into the marketplace, the adults had never even given him a second glance.</p>
<p>Now every outing was accompanied by stares and whispers, and some people still chose to cross the street to avoid walking past him. Steve wanted to ream them all out for their rudeness. It improved, somewhat, after the pardon, and after Steve gave that press conference announcing both his retirement and their newly minted relationship status: married. But that did also mean that Steve was eligible for his own stares and disapproving glances whenever they ventured out together. The future was better in most regards, but Steve had soon learned that some things never changed.</p>
<p>From what he’d read, service dogs were meant to help foster a sense of security and alleviate anxiety, especially in crowded and public situations. Although Bucky never outright shied away from accompanying Steve to the shops, or out for meals, Steve had noticed he was slowly retreating into himself and rarely ventured out of the house on his own anymore. And, whilst everyone joked about Steve being a golden retriever, Steve could see how having a real dog might help Bucky focus and redirect his anxiety outwards into something tangible that he could control.</p>
<p>Besides, Bucky had always been hardwired to care for things—doting on his little sisters, saving Steve from back alley scraps, mother-henning their squad during the war. Even if the application fell through, Steve was beginning to think he should suggest they adopt a rescue dog or something.</p>
<p>Luckily, it didn’t. The letter came through towards the end of February, inviting them down to the centre for a two-week training course starting in March. During the first few days, the leaflet attached with the acceptance letter told Steve, they’d work with demonstration dogs to learn basic obedience and commands, and get acquainted with the equipment and learning how to respond to the dog’s behaviour. Then, on day four—which just so happened to be Bucky’s birthday—they’d get introduced to their dogs, and the second week was all about building a bond and learning how to work together.</p>
<p>Steve could barely contain his excitement when he handed the letter over to Bucky, casually sliding it across the table one morning as they sat down for breakfast. Bucky eyed it cautiously.</p>
<p>“What’s this?”</p>
<p>“Just, open it.” Steve grinned, trying and failing to mask the beaming smile that wanted to shine from him. Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion and he gripped the leaflet tightly in his unwavering metal grip.</p>
<p>“They want to give me a dog?” he asked, sounding confused. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Because I applied for one, for you. I thought it sounded like a good idea.” Steve felt suddenly unsure, perhaps it was unfair to spring it on Bucky, he really ought to have discussed it with him first. But Bucky surprised Steve by letting out a huff of delighted laughter. He shook his head as a smile stretched across his lips.</p>
<p>“They want to give me a dog,” he repeated. “You’re okay with this? Thought you were allergic?”</p>
<p>“Not since the serum.” Steve shook his head.</p>
<p>“Not sure I’d know what to do with a dog. Or how to look after one,” Bucky was back to sounding dubious and so uncharacteristically self-conscious.</p>
<p>“You looked after me just fine, all these years,” Steve teased. “And I’m pretty sure they teach you everything you need to know.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Bucky read through the letter again and again, like the information might have changed.</p>
<p>“Worth giving it a try, though right?”</p>
<p>“Sure. Why not.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>All of Bucky’s uncertainty melted the moment he stepped into the centre and they introduced the demonstration dogs. Steve hung back, wanting to give Bucky space to enrol on his own, but he couldn’t help but watch with a giant smile on his face as Bucky crouched at eye level to ruffle the fur on a big golden border collie cross that sat neatly at attention. Bucky’s face lit up brighter than Steve had seen it since before the war, and Steve made a tactical retreat and ensconced himself in a coffee shop across the street until the two-hour class was done.</p>
<p>The program said it worked hard to pair the perfect dog with the perfect person, which was why the applicants weren’t officially paired with a dog until day four, but Steve wasn’t in the least bit surprised when Bucky told him he’d been paired with the golden dog from the first morning. The centre had provisionally called the dog Summer, and although they said it was possible for Bucky to rename the dog if he chose, Bucky decided that after a lifetime of ice and darkness, Summer was the perfect name to usher in a new and better chapter in their lives.</p>
<p>Bucky scrolled through his phone, fizzing with excitement as he showed Steve all the photos he’d managed to snap before and after the class, and regaling him with every minuscule detail of the lesson.</p>
<p>“I can’t wait until we get her home,” he sighed, leaning back against Steve and letting his head fall into the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and pressed a kiss into the top of Bucky’s head.</p>
<p>“Me either.”</p>
<p>“Best birthday present ever.” Steve watched as Bucky set a particularly adorable shot of Summer as his screensaver, replacing the previous one of Steve in a ridiculously ugly Captain America Christmas sweater. “Not sure how you’re going to top it next year,” he added with a smirk.</p>
<p>“Oh, you don’t?”</p>
<p>“Best get planning now.”</p>
<p>“<em><em>This</em></em> year isn’t even over yet, you jerk.”</p>
<p>“Punk,” Bucky returned, with a laugh. “Thank you. For applying for me.” His tone turned sincere and Steve wrapped Bucky tighter in his arms.</p>
<p>“No problem. I’d do anything for you, I hope you know that.” Steve planted another kiss on Bucky’s temple this time and felt Bucky’s face shift into another smile.</p>
<p>“I do. Maybe one day I’ll feel like I deserve it.”</p>
<p>“I hope so too. Happy birthday, Buck.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Birthday Wish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shrunkyclunks &amp; Motorcycles / Mechanic and veteran Bucky meets ex-Captain America Steve who’s biking across the country / 1k words</p>
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    <em>Prompt from @1Dtrashstan: Bucky the tow truck driver picks Steve up when the bike breaks down</em>
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<p>Bucky made the same wish for his birthday every year—mostly joking because he never expected it to come true. He wanted someone to love. He knew when he moved back to Shelbyville after he completed his tour that he’d be limiting the dating pool. He knew there were better prospects in New York or Chicago, knew the small-town rural guys wouldn’t be on the same page. But he’d promised his mom he’d stick around near home for a while and, honestly? With his current fragile state of mind, Bucky wasn’t sure if New York wouldn’t chew him up and spit him back out.</p>
<p>But when he made his wish that morning, like every march tenth since he’d started high school, Bucky wasn’t expecting it to come true.</p>
<p>“Hi, hello?” someone called out, their voice echoed around the garage space.</p>
<p>“With you in a sec!” Bucky called back. He finished up what he was doing and gently set his tools down, wiping his hands as clean as he could get on a scrap of cloth which he threw over the shoulder of his grease-stained overalls. “How can I help?”</p>
<p>The guy blinked at Bucky, looking lost for words for a second, which was an adorable look for someone as tall and well-built as he was. Where he was standing, in the open doorway of the garage, backlight by the early morning sun he looked almost ethereal; like he’d walked right out of Bucky’s dreams. His blonde hair caught the sun and the light bent around the strong muscles of his arms which were barely contained by a thin white t-shirt.</p>
<p>Bucky smiled patiently, waiting for the man to explain what he was doing here.</p>
<p>“My, er, bike threw a flat. I tried to patch it, but it went again after a few miles. Any chance you could fix it for me?”</p>
<p>“Sure. Where is it?”</p>
<p>“Few miles east on the I-74.”</p>
<p>“Let me finish up what I’m doing? Then we can head out to pick it up—you in any particular hurry?” The guy didn’t particularly look like a drifter, but you never really knew these days.</p>
<p>“No hurry. Just driving coast to coast. Seeing the sights along the way.”</p>
<p>“Right. I’ll be…20mins?” Bucky guessed.</p>
<p>“Sure thing.”</p>
<p>“Refreshments in the waiting room,” Bucky pointed to a small room off to the side they kept stocked with a vending machine and some plastic chairs for customers to sit and wait.</p>
<p>“Thank you.” The guy gave a big smile that showed off rows of Hollywood white teeth and ducked into the room.</p>
<p>There was something vaguely familiar about him that nagged at the back of Bucky’s mind, but he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on finishing up with the truck he was tinkering with as quickly as he could.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When the guy had said a ‘few miles’, Bucky thought he meant, like 3 at most. But they kept on driving, ten, twelve, until the guy—Steve, he said his name was—finally pointed out his motorcycle parked up on the other side of the road.</p>
<p>“You hitch a lift to the garage?” Bucky asked, side-eying the guy.</p>
<p>“No. I walked.”</p>
<p>Bucky narrowed his eyes but didn’t press. They looped around the next junction and Bucky pulled over so they could stow the bike in the back of his pickup truck. There was something a little unnatural about how easily Steve helped lift the bike, not to mention the fact that he’d apparently hiked a casual fifteen miles that morning without looking he’d broken a sweat.</p>
<p>“Where are you coming from?”</p>
<p>“New York,” Steve answered brightly.</p>
<p>“Any particular reason for the trip?”</p>
<p>“Just, wanted to see the country.” He shrugged and smiled.</p>
<p>It wasn’t until Bucky took the guy’s card to pay for the tow and the new tyre that he put it all together. Well, he didn’t put anything together because he was apparently becoming an idiot in his old age. The name on the card told him everything: Steve Rogers.</p>
<p>“I’d’ve thought Captain America could just carry his bike here himself,” Bucky said with a smirk, keeping his tone light so Steve would be sure to know he was joking.</p>
<p>“Ah,” Steve dipped his head and smiled. “Thought about that. Thought it’d get me some odd looks.”</p>
<p>“Probably right.” Bucky smiled back. “It’s a nice bike.” Bucky offered., a Harley-Davidson Street 750. Stylish, not one Bucky would pick for a cross-country road trip though. He told Steve as much and got a twisted smile in response.</p>
<p>“No? What’d you go with?”</p>
<p>“Well,” Bucky started, this was a conversation he could about at length if Steve was truly interested. “If you wanna stick with a Harley, you want their Electra Glide if you doing long distances. But for me? If I was touring, I’d go with the Yamaha FJR1300.”</p>
<p>“You ride?” Steve asked, and if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, there was a very flirtatious lilt to his voice.</p>
<p>“I do.” Bucky held Steve’s gaze and arched an eyebrow, waiting, hoping he hadn’t read Steve all wrong.</p>
<p>“Say.” Steve dialled everything up a notch and leant against the counter. “I’m new in town. Know anywhere to get a bite to eat?”</p>
<p>Bucky damn near lost himself in Steve’s blue eyes which were fixed bright and intent on him, filled with unmistakeable want. It was a clear invitation to get dinner together and Bucky so totally wanted to accept, but.</p>
<p>“Best places are on South Harrison Street, but uh, I can’t. Not tonight.”</p>
<p>“Okay.” Steve’s expression faded back to his normal polite and mile expression. “Not a problem.”</p>
<p>“It’s my birthday,” Bucky blurted. “Promised my mom I’d go to hers for dinner.” He didn’t want Steve to leave without an explanation. “But, uh, if you wanted to stick around until tomorrow?” he added, hopeful.</p>
<p>“I think I can find a reason to stay.” Steve winked. “Tomorrow? What time d’you get off?” He said it with such a cheeky wink, that Bucky actually stuttered.</p>
<p>“Six,” he forced himself to reply.</p>
<p>“I’ll pick you up,” Steve promised. “And happy birthday.”</p>
<p>Yeah, happy birthday to Bucky indeed.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Sunrise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Post-TWS / Retirement, recovery, and restless nightmares / 1.5k words</p>
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    <em>Prompt from cmleo: Steve soothes Bucky after Bucky wakes up from a nightmare early in the morning of his birthday. </em>
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<p>Bucky never remembered the dreams once he woke, which perhaps was a blessing. But they felt so visceral whilst he was in them, and they left him panting and shaking and recoiling from unknown horrors of his nightmares after he’d opened his eyes. He lay in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, slowly coming back to himself. Steve was beside him, running a soothing hand down Bucky’s flesh arm and pressing gentle kisses into Bucky’s shoulder all the while muttering a litany of reassurances.</p>
<p>“You’re okay, Bucky, it’s okay,” Steve soothed him.</p>
<p>When he could finally do more than simply lie frozen as his panic ebbed, Bucky let out a low groan and curse. “Sorry to wake you,” he grumbled.</p>
<p>“No, no, don’t be sorry.” Steve snaked his hand across Bucky’s stomach and glanced up at him with that adorable little crease in his brow. “You woke up much easier this time,” he offered, like it was some sort of consolation. Bucky supposed it was, but it just reminded him how often his nightmares disturbed Steve, of how much sleep he lost because of Bucky. Bucky dragged his metal hand across his face and left it draped over his eyes as he asked, “What time is it?”</p>
<p>“Nearly 5.”</p>
<p>“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He let his arm fall back to rest against the pillow. He could tell how early it was now, nothing but artificial light from the city bleeding through their drawn drapes.</p>
<p>“I told you,” Steve’s hand pressed gently against Bucky’s abs like he could push the words directly into Bucky’s skin to make him believe them. “You’ve got <em>nothing</em> to be sorry for. You can’t control your dreams. I wish you could, I wish you didn’t have to suffer through them. But you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”</p>
<p>Bucky wanted to believe him, he really did, but when he stared down at Steve’s soft expression, his sleep ruffled hair and the slightly tired glaze of his eyes, Bucky could only see that he had woken this beautiful man and ruined his morning.</p>
<p>“Do you wanna try and go back to sleep? Or should we get up?” ‘We’. It was always ‘we’, Steve was always willing to do whatever Bucky wanted. Steve was too good and too kind, and Bucky was so undeserving of him. Bucky knew he should lie and let Steve try and grab another hour or so of sleep, but Steve always seemed to know when Bucky bent the truth, so he found himself answering honestly.</p>
<p>“I don’t think I can go back to sleep,” he admitted.</p>
<p>“That’s okay. We can cook breakfast and watch the sunrise.” Steve just smiled. “Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll meet you on the roof?” he asked, already moving to roll out of bed. He knelt up so he could give Bucky a morning kiss, which Bucky instinctively tilted towards to catch it on his lips.</p>
<p>“Yeah, okay.” The nightmares always left him feeling sweaty, and gross. It was soothing to scrub the lingering horrors away from his body with generous helpings of body wash. He didn’t bother dressing properly, he wasn’t in the mood to fuss about with clothes. He just took his giant fluffy bathrobe from the peg behind the door and wrapped himself in the thick layer of soft material.</p>
<p>The house had been Steve’s find. A brownstone in Brooklyn, in the nice part of town, far removed from the old tenement building they’d grown up in. It had tall airy ceilings and big windows, but the best thing was the rooftop terrace that looked out over Prospect Park and the skyscrapers of Manhattan beyond.</p>
<p>The sky was just beginning to lighten with the first trace of sunrise when Bucky climbed the carpeted stairs and stepped out into the cold spring air. They’d carpeted the terrace with soft artificial grass which felt springy under Bucky’s bare feet. He stepped over to the railing that lined the roof and stared out over the city that was poised in the liminal space between asleep and awake. They said New York was the city that never sleeps, but it was a lie. There was a moment just before dawn when everything seemed to hang still. Bucky soaked up the tranquillity and wished it was possible to turn his brain off for a while.</p>
<p>Before long, he heard Steve climbing the stairs to join him. He heard the rattle of a tray being set on the coffee table and smelt the pleasant aroma of fresh coffee and chocolate pastries.</p>
<p>“Happy Birthday,” Steve said as he joined Bucky by the railing. He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and handed over a steaming mug of coffee which Bucky wrapped his flesh hand around and held hugged close to his chest for a moment. He looked down and stared at the dark browns swirling together in his drink before raising it to his lips.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he remembered to say eventually.</p>
<p>“I don’t have anything planned today. Our day is completely free to do whatever you want.” Which was smart, Bucky still had bad days that sprang up unannounced and meant half the plans they made ended up being rain checked for later. It was even kinder of Steve not to mention the reason for his casually planned day. Bucky tried not to let himself feel too guilty about it.</p>
<p>“Even if aliens attack?” Bucky chose to ask. He’d been aiming to tease, but his voice came out more monotone than he would have liked.</p>
<p>“Especially if aliens attack,” Steve laughed. “Told you, I’m fully retired now. Sam and the Avengers can handle things just fine without my help. We can do, whatever it is you want to do,” Steve said. He wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist and tipped his head against Bucky’s shoulder watching as the sunlight began to paint the buildings gold.</p>
<p>Steve had taken to being retired much better than Bucky thought he would have done. He’d taken up painting again, started working on a vegetable patch in the backyard, he read a lot, ran even more, and volunteered endless time in children’s hospitals and libraries.</p>
<p>He’d managed to adapt seamlessly to their new life, and Bucky was left floundering in his wake, struggling through counselling sessions for this PTSD, feeling like he wasn’t making any progress. Bucky knew it wasn’t fair to paint Steve’s recovery in such broad strokes, he knew Steve still saw a therapist regularly and had worked hard to manage his own trauma. The same way Bucky knew he had made progress. There’d been a time he wouldn’t have even let Steve touch him, let alone cosy up to him like this on their rooftop terrace to watch the sunrise together. But there was still such a long road of recovery ahead of him and Bucky just wanted to be able to skip ahead to the good part; the happy ending where they could laze all morning in bed without Bucky’s nightmares poised to break the spell. He wanted to be able to make plans and reservations like normal people. He wanted to live and not just feel like he was surviving.</p>
<p>“You’re having less nightmares,” Steve said after a while. “Might not feel like it, but you are.”</p>
<p>“I’m so tired of not being able to sleep,” Bucky admitted. “And I hate that I drag you awake with me.”</p>
<p>Steve didn’t answer for a while, but his arm wrapped tighter around Bucky’s waist holding them pressed close. “Lie ins are overrated,” Steve said eventually. “Look at what we would have missed if we had?” The was sunrise was beautiful as they watched it climb into the sky. “I wish you didn’t have nightmares, not because they wake me, but because I hate to see you suffering. But please, please don’t ever think you’re dragging me into anything with you. I’d want to be awake when you were, nightmares or no, because we missed so much time together and I don’t want to miss another second. I love you. I’m never gonna stop loving you. I wish you wouldn’t feel so damn guilty about the fact that you’re recovering.”</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>Steve shushed him with a slight pinch above his hip. “I know it’s not as easy as just letting go of that kind of guilt. I know I can’t stop you from feeling sorry, so I’m just going to keep reminding you as often as it takes: I love you and you have nothing to be sorry for.”</p>
<p>Bucky breathed deeply. He wanted to believe Steve, maybe one day he’d be able to. “Thank you.” Steve hummed happily against his shoulder, then hip-checked him and pulled away.</p>
<p>“We should eat our breakfast before it gets cold,” Steve said. “And then, if you’re not going to choose what you want to do. I’m going to suggest we go back to bed.”</p>
<p>“I won’t be able to fall asleep now.”</p>
<p>“I never said anything about <em>sleeping</em>,” Steve said and gave an honest-to-god wink. Bucky felt laughter bubbling from him. He shook his head and followed Steve’s lead towards the tray laden with breakfast food. Maybe lie-ins were overrated after all.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Tales from Wakanda</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Canon Insertion / Bucky’s 100th Birthday in Wakanda, 2017 / 500 words</p>
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    <em>Prompt from @ mickeym9802: Bucky learning about hot tubs</em>
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<p>Steve would have been happy to spend the week in Bucky’s shepherd hut, deep in the Wakandan countryside. It was peaceful and calm, and Steve would quite happily have moved there permanently, to be honest, once they’d finished tracking down the remaining HYDRA cells and Steve could retire without feeling guilty. But it wasn’t every day your best guy turned 100, and Steve decided Bucky needed to be spoiled.</p>
<p>T’Challa was more than happy to give them a suite in the finest hotel in the capital city for a week. It was luxury the likes of which Steve had never seen before—putting Stark’s tower and all of the 5* hotels Steve had stayed in since waking up in the future, to shame. The bed was bigger than even a California King, and the balcony which looked out over the snow-capped mountains in the distance had an inground hot tub built into it, which Steve couldn’t wait to try. Bucky just eyed it dubiously.</p>
<p>“Why have a bath on the balcony?” he asked, confused.</p>
<p>“It’s a hot tub.”</p>
<p>“Oh, the thing that bubbles?” Bucky asked, wiggling his fingers to mimic bubbles rising. “I always wondered—what are they for?”</p>
<p>“Fun?” Steve shrugged.</p>
<p>“People boil themselves like lobsters…for fun?” Bucky clarified.</p>
<p>“It’s not that hot,” Steve tried not to laugh. Bucky’s varied and inconsistent knowledge of future technology was hardly something to find amusing. “It’s soothing.”</p>
<p>Stark had installed one in Steve’s big fancy apartment in Stark tower. For the couple of months Steve had actually stayed there, he’d found it divine. Before then Steve had been nervous about baths and showers. Experience had told him to expect a cold shock when the hot water ran out, and after the Valkyrie, after the icy water slowly rising with nothing he could do to stop it…well, needless to say, he hadn’t been a fan of cold water. But hot tubs, endless hot water that bubbled and sent jets pulsing against sore muscles? Best invention since sliced bread.</p>
<p>“You’ll love it, I promise.”</p>
<p>Steve set the water bubbling and coaxed Bucky to strip. He slid in first, demonstrating that it was safe. Bucky had already triple checked all of the sightlines into their suite and pronounced it safe, so Steve wasn’t worried about people being able to see them. He settled back against one of the curved walls with his back directly against a jet of warm water that massaged him with a steady, persistent pressure.</p>
<p>Very hesitantly, Bucky dipped in a toe.</p>
<p>“Sous vide,” he commented. “If you left a lobster in here long enough, I bet it would cook.”</p>
<p>“Would be cruel though.”</p>
<p>“You’re the one who says sitting in here is fun.”</p>
<p>“It is,” Steve chuckled. “C’mere.”</p>
<p>When he finally managed to get Bucky in front of a jet, Bucky practically melted at the sensation. He let out a little groan and splayed himself out against the wall of the hot tub, limbs spread wide and his chin just resting above the bubbling water.</p>
<p>“Okay. I get it now,” he admitted. “See you in a week.” He closed his eyes and relaxed more completely than Steve had seen him in a long time.</p>
<p>Steve chuckled and kicked back himself, setting a mental reminder to get them out of the tub in an hour—before they both really did start to burn and dehydrate, super healing serum be damned.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Lucky Strike</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Canon Insertion / March 10th, 1944. Somewhere behind enemy lines / 750 words</p><p> </p><p>  <em><br/>    <em>Prompt from @wingedbarnes: between recovering after him and the howlies were kept by hydra and steve showing up like That, bucky forgets his birthday that year. steve doesn’t. (((mcu timeline is an illusion 😌</em><br/>  </em></p>
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</p><p>Time was a blur. Bucky hadn’t been able to keep his thoughts in order since Steve had pulled him from Zola’s table. It didn’t help that their newly minted SSR107 special ops squad was sent here and there with barely time to catch their breath between missions. Bucky wasn’t even sure what month it was, let alone what day of the week.</p><p>Currently, they were camped out somewhere behind enemy lines, doing reconnaissance on a Hydra supply route that Phillips wanted them to sabotage, or outright disable, if they could manage it. It was cold, snow still clung to the ground and Bucky’s breath danced before him in the night air, so he knew it was still winter. That’s about all he knew.</p><p>“Trucks go by every hour.” Steve shuffled back over the rise Bucky was lying hidden behind, keeping his rifle poised to provide cover for Steve if needed. Steve rolled close so he could whisper low and quiet into Bucky’s ear. His hot breath tickled and Bucky firmly pushed down all unhelpful thoughts about Steve whispering in Bucky’s ear. That blissful week in London, where they’d hidden away in a boarding house and Bucky had re-learned every inch of Steve’s new body before Philips packed them off for special training, felt like eons ago now. And it would be eons before they got the chance to steal more than silent kisses in foxholes scattered throughout Europe. “They don’t search them at the gate, so we can ambush the next, hitch a ride in and blow the place to kingdom come.”</p><p>“Dernier’ll be pleased,” Bucky whispered back. “We should rendezvous with the others.”</p><p>“Wait.” Steve stayed him with a hand on Bucky’s arm. “This is about as isolated as we’re gonna get for a while,” Steve explained, which wasn’t much of an explanation at all. Bucky retracted his rifle and rolled over so he could raise an eyebrow at Steve in the gloom. Steve scrabbled with the pockets on his belt and drew out two packs of lucky strikes, grinning as he handed them over.</p><p>“Where the hell d’you get those?” Bucky hissed, unable to keep the incredulity from his voice.</p><p>“Won them in a poker game, when we stopped over in that camp near Monte Cassino. Guess no one expects Captain American to cheat.” He smirked.</p><p>“Yeah, cause none of them ever met Stevie Rogers before.” Bucky shook his head. He pocketed the packs gratefully, but couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you giving them to me now?”</p><p>“I know they’re not the greatest present I ever got you, but it was the best I could do given our current situation.” It was impossible to tell in the gloom, but Bucky was pretty sure Steve was blushing.</p><p>“Present?”</p><p>“Yeah, happy birthday, Buck.”</p><p>“Since when is it my birthday?”</p><p>“Since about an hour ago when it turned midnight.”</p><p>“It’s not my birthday,” Bucky protested.</p><p>“Um, yeah? March tenth? You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?”</p><p>Bucky blinked. How had it gotten to March without him noticing?</p><p>“Sorry you can’t smoke them here, and I’m even more sorry I can’t give you what I <em><em>really</em></em> wanna for your birthday.” Steve nudged Bucky with his elbow.</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Bucky decided not to dwell on the slightly terrifying thought that he’d forgotten his own birthday. He wrapped his hand around webbing on Steve’s uniform and pulled him close.</p><p>“But I’ll make it up to you soon as we’re in a room that locks,” he promised and leant in to capture Bucky’s mouth in a kiss.</p><p>“You’d better.”</p><p>They kissed as long as they deemed safe— what with them lying out in the open barely two miles from a Hydra facility—before they reluctantly pulled away and began to army crawl their way to rendezvous with the others.</p><p>“Do the others know?”</p><p>“No. Didn’t know if you’d want them to—you’d been awful quiet about it, thought you were trying to keep it secret.”</p><p>Bucky huffed under his breath.</p><p>“Were you?”</p><p>“No. I’d honestly just forgotten.”</p><p>“Well, good thing I was here to remember for you.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Bucky glanced across at Steve, feeling far more grateful to him than just for a pack of lucky strikes. “Yeah, I was.”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Coney Island</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Post-TWS / Coney Island then vs now / 1.1k words</p>
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    <em>Prompt from @ workformandroid: Pre-war Coney Island birthday trip. Bonus points for ice cream. 😆</em>
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    <em>Prompt from @gigtripper86: Bucky reflecting on (or trying to reflect/remember) old birthdays and Steve doing his best to bring his own memories of them to life while making this birthday extra special now he has his best friend back.</em>
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<p>The wind was biting. Sometimes March felt like June, sometimes it felt like December, it was the luck of the draw. Today was a ‘December’ day, but although Steve had been desperately hoping for warm weather, he wasn’t going to let it stand in the way of his plans. Bucky’s first birthday free of Hydra deserves to be celebrated properly and Steve had sorely hoped it would be sunny enough for them to share an ice cream like they had in that one memory Bucky had volunteered; speaking tentatively like he couldn’t rely upon the memory to be real.</p>
<p>“We used to split a cone,” he’d whispered. “One scoop of ice cream. Why?”</p>
<p>“It was all we could afford.” Steve had shrugged in response as a beaming smile tugged at his cheeks. It was a memory, or rather, a collection of memories that Steve remembered all too well.</p>
<p>Back when they were younger, a single scoop ice cream cone had cost 5 cents. It seemed impossible that there would have been a time when they didn’t have 5 cents each to spare. Now you’d be lucky if you could buy a cone for less than two dollars, which was more money than Steve would have spent on food in a <em><em>week </em></em>back in the thirties. He was still trying to wrap his head around inflation. Nowadays, a dollar went almost nowhere and there wasn’t any point in carrying change worth less than that, but Steve could clearly remember a time when he and Bucky had skimped and saved just to afford the five-cent subway fare to get to Coney Island, let alone have enough nickels in their pockets to pay twenty-five cents for the shooting gallery, or fifteen cents to ride a roller coaster. They felt like kings if they had ten cents to spare on hotdogs before they went home—always the last purchase of the day, and certainly never before they went on a ride (they’d learned that the hard way, after Bucky dragged Steve on the cyclone and their precious hotdog had ended up being repeated all over the boardwalk slats).</p>
<p>When they were older, once they’d started earning money, they could afford to buy an ice cream each, but by then it had become a tradition. Each birthday they’d sit on the railings of the boardwalk looking out across the beach towards the sea and share an ice cream cone split between them. Even on the March days when it was throwing it down with rain and they were the only ones stupid enough to be out. Steve had caught a nasty cold that way the year Bucky turned fifteen. He remembered being laid up in bed for weeks after, whilst Bucky fretted and fussed worse than Steve’s own mother. He smiled fondly at the memory and glanced out across the beach.</p>
<p>At least it wasn’t raining today, Steve supposed. The sky was a clear bright blue, but the wind was blowing in from the North, bringing an arctic chill with it.</p>
<p>“Too cold for one today, I guess?” Bucky asked, scuffing his feet as they stared out over the railing, watching storm grey waves wash up the beach.</p>
<p>It was, really. It couldn’t be more than 40F degrees out, but it was the one thing Bucky had remembered and Steve wanted to make this birthday as special for Bucky as possible.</p>
<p>“I’m game if you are?”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Bucky’s mouth curled into an approximation of a smile, and the sight of that alone filled Steve with enough warmth to justify ice cream.</p>
<p>The guy who served them clearly thought they were mad, but he wasn’t going to turn down customers just because they were insane.</p>
<p>“What do you want?” Steve asked Bucky, scanning the menu himself. There was far more on offer than a single scoop of vanilla these days. Too much choice, Steve sometimes thought. He cast a cautious glance at Bucky who looked a little overwhelmed by just how many flavours there were to choose from. Steve was just debating whether he ought to jump in and save Bucky from having to decide when Bucky turned to give him a sly smile.</p>
<p>“Keep it traditional?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Sure, why not?” Steve smiled back. It was Bucky’s birthday after all. “A single scoop of vanilla, please,” Steve ordered.</p>
<p>“Just the one?” the guy looked confused, and disappointed—until Steve stuffed a twenty into the tip jar.</p>
<p>They took their single cone back to the railing. Steve hopped up to balance on the top bar like he’d always done to make himself the same height as Bucky, and they passed their single cone back and forth, trading licks and bickering when the other licked too much.</p>
<p>“Hey! That’s my half,” Steve protested. Bucky responded by swiping his tongue liberally across the whole thing. “Gross,” Steve felt it was his duty to complain when it was actually the most adorable, and the most Bucky-like thing Steve had seen him do since he’d turned up in Steve’s apartment in the dead of night, six months after their standoff on the helicarrier.</p>
<p>Steve had spent those six months pulling on all the threads Natasha had managed to find, before realising that Bucky clearly didn’t want to be found. He’d moved back to Brooklyn, hoping Bucky might seek him out when he was ready to, and he’d barely been in the apartment for a day when Bucky did exactly that. In the three months since, Steve had been slowly helping Bucky relearn who he’d been—and most importantly, who he was now.</p>
<p>Neither of them were the same people who’d once stood in the same spot seventy-three years ago, the last time they properly celebrated Bucky’s birthday before he’d been drafted and sent for basic training. And they’d never be those people again, but that was okay. Somehow, against all odds and against everything the universe had put them through, they’d found their way back to each other and that was the only thing that mattered. Whoever they were now, and whoever they would become in the future, as long as they were together, Steve knew they’d be okay.</p>
<p>And who knew? Maybe in another seventy-three years, they’d still be splitting ice cream cones at Coney Island celebrating their 104th, or 171st, or however you wanted to calculate it, birthday. Steve could only hope.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Cherry Blossom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shrunkyclunks / Japanese food and a birthday surprise / 1.1k words</p>
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    <em>Prompt from @aran76a: Bucky trying the food Steve cook for him and they both finish trying sushi cause Steve wants to give him a trip to japan to see the blossoming cherry trees.</em>
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<p>Steve was terrible at keeping secrets, Bucky could tell he’d been bursting with something for weeks. How he ever managed to conduct covert operations or spy work, Bucky would never know. But considering that Bucky’s birthday was fast approaching and because he hoped the two things might be related, Bucky decided not to pry or tease too much. When Steve told him to dress up fancy and be ready at 7 pm on the evening of his birthday, Bucky happily complied. He fixed his hair into a neat swoop across his forehead, donned his dark jeans that made his ass look incredible, with a black patterned dress shirt and his trusty leather jacket. The look on Steve’s face when Bucky stepped out to meet him on the curb filled him with giddy delight. They’d been dating for a little over six months now, but Bucky’s heart still swooped whenever he saw him, and it looked like Steve’s did too. Bucky hoped that sense of excitement never left them.</p>
<p>“Where are you taking me?” Bucky asked, linking his arm through the crook of Steve’s elbow.</p>
<p>“It’s a surprise,” was all Steve replied.</p>
<p>“Okay.” Bucky leant to press a kiss to Steve’s cheek and was happy to let himself be steered through the city.</p>
<p>The evening air was surprisingly mild, but Bucky stilled pressed close against Steve as they walked. He tried to figure out where they were heading as they went, it was within walking distance, somewhere with a dress code. That eliminated most of the places they normally ate at—when they decided to actually go out and not just get take out in one of their apartments. The answer became abundantly clear when they turned a corner and the sleek black awning decorated with a stylised cherry blossom design of the fancy Japanese restaurant Bucky had always wanted to try, came into view.</p>
<p>“No! You got reservations?” Bucky asked, hardly daring to hope.</p>
<p>“Yep!” Steve beamed. “C’mon.”</p>
<p>Japanese lanterns hung from the ceiling, spilling pools of soft light and a beautiful backlit rendering of a cheery tree trailing blossom to the wind filled up the whole back wall.</p>
<p>They were shown to a table beside it and they both sat gawping at the delicate details of the image.</p>
<p>“Wow.” Bucky breathed.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Steve still sounded nervous, even though he no longer had to keep the secret. Bucky thought it was adorable.</p>
<p>“I dunno you managed to keep quiet about this,” Bucky chuckled.</p>
<p>“Me either,” Steve shook his head. “I’ve been, uh, planning this for a while.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” It was wonderful to know Steve had that much confidence in their relationship. Bucky reached across the table to clasp Steve’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>They left their hands clasped between them as they read through the menu and tried to choose from the wide selection of dishes. Bucky loved Japanese food, he loved the language and the culture. He spoke fluent Japanese—and French, German, Spanish, Italian, Xhosa, and Mandarin, which made him a rather in demand translator. Which was how he’d met Steve, actually; translating at one of the Avengers’ press conferences. But whilst New York being such a multicultural hub meant there was no lack of translation work right on his doorstep, it meant Bucky had little need to travel. He’d visited Europe in his college days and done a two-week cultural exchange with a university in China, but so far, he’d never been to Japan. It was right at the top of his travel list and just as soon as he managed to save up enough money that was the first place he was going to go. Until then, he’d have to make do with gorging himself on Japanese food stateside.</p>
<p>Steve was less confident with Japanese food, so he suggested that Bucky order something for him, and Bucky ended up ordering a spread of things for them both to share. The food tasted divine, just as good as the rave reviews which recommended the place, and soon Bucky was stuffed.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Steve, this was wonderful.”</p>
<p>“This is just the start,” Steve said, with an enigmatic smile. Or, as enigmatic as Steve, ‘I wear my emotions on my sleeve’, could muster. “Here.” He slid an envelope across the table. Bucky picked it up carefully and ran his finger under the flap to open it. At first, he didn’t realise what he was seeing, it was a booking confirmation…plane tickets…a travel itinerary…</p>
<p>“We’re going to Japan?!” he asked, glancing up at Steve in shock.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Steve beamed back, smiling brighter than a goddamn sunrise. “I called in a few favours, it’s all booked and paid for. You just need to pack a suitcase.”</p>
<p>“When?”</p>
<p>“This weekend—I took the liberty of checking your calendar…” Steve looked a little unsure, but Bucky knew it was fine. He worked freelance and he’d kind of guessed Steve might be planning something around his birthday, so his workload was very light at the moment. He could take a week off without a problem. “This is the best time of year to see the cherry blossom. And I know you’ve always wanted to go, so. Happy Birthday.”</p>
<p>Bucky couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He threw himself out of his chair and wrapped Steve up in a huge hug.</p>
<p>“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”</p>
<p>Steve laughed beneath him and pressed a kiss against Bucky’s neck, which was probably the part of him he could reach. “You are so welcome, Bucky. I love you.”</p>
<p>“I love you too.” It came so easily to him and felt so natural, that it wasn’t until they were strolling through the tree-lined avenues of Tokyo, beneath stunning canopies of pink blossoms, that Bucky realised the restaurant had been the first time they’d exchanged to words with one another.</p>
<p>“I love you,” he said again, because he could now, and because he never wanted to stop.</p>
<p>Steve squeezed his hand and turned to face Bucky, brushing Bucky’s hair back from his forehead and looking deep into his eyes for one long, breathless moment as pink blossom fluttered on the wind like confetti around them.</p>
<p>“I love you more.”</p>
<p>“Not possible,” Bucky laughed. Steve’s eyes crinkled into a smile and Bucky felt like he was brimming over with happiness and bliss as he arched up to kiss him.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Traditions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Shrunkyclunks / It’s a Barnes family tradition to have whatever you want for breakfast on your birthday / 700 words</p>
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    <em>Prompt from erosanderis: It’s a Barnes family tradition to have whatever you want for breakfast on your bday. Now that they are married, Steve is responsible for making whatever weird food Bucky requests</em>
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<p>The Barnes family had lots of traditions and Steve loved every single one; even the ones that baffled him, like saying ‘thank you’ to their turkey every Thanksgiving. Before he’d met Bucky, it had been so long since Steve had felt like part of a family, but the Barnes clan had welcomed him in as one of their own and now he was officially a ‘Barnes-Rogers’ himself, he really was. It also meant Steve was responsible for fulfilling some of the ridiculous traditions himself.</p>
<p>“I want peanut butter toast with crispy bacon, fruit loop pancakes with whipped cream and syrup, and a three-pump caramel macchiato,” Bucky asked brightly. “Oh! And a bowl of lucky charms—but just the marshmallow pieces.”</p>
<p>“Is that all?” Steve asked. “Sounds like you want a heart attack on a plate.” He laughed.</p>
<p>“It’s my birthday! I get to have whatever I want for breakfast on my birthday, you know the rules, and you,” he dove across the bed to tickle Steve’s stomach. “Have to cook it for me.”</p>
<p>“Is that so?” Steve asked, amused by Bucky’s ineffectual attempts to tickle him. Steve had never been ticklish, Bucky on the other hand…</p>
<p>Steve rolled onto his back, dragged Bucky with him so that Bucky ended up sprawled on top of him. Steve wrapped him up his arms in what looked like an innocent hug until he began to mercilessly tickle Bucky’s sides. Bucky yelped and squirmed and tried to wriggle free whilst laughter was torn from him.</p>
<p>“Stop, stop,” he asked breathlessly and Steve relented.</p>
<p>“So, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it, huh?” he asked, planting a big sloppy kiss on Bucky’s forehead.</p>
<p>“Gross,” Bucky complained swiping at it with the back of his hand and letting himself go lax and boneless so the full weight of him slumped down on Steve’s chest, forcing out a soft ‘oof’ from Steve.</p>
<p>They lay like that for a while, breathing against one another and enjoying the domestic intimacy of lazing in their giant bed, surrounded by mountains of soft sheets and pillows, whilst the morning sunlight filtered through the window and washed everything with a beautiful glow. Steve lifted his head to plant another kiss against Bucky’s temple, much less sloppy this time.</p>
<p>“I can’t cook it from here,” he whispered. “You have to move.”</p>
<p>Bucky gave a thoughtful hum and hooked one of his legs under Steve’s, resettling his head on the pillow he’d made of Steve’s pecs.</p>
<p>“Think I wanna stay here a bit longer first,” he said, voice muffled against Steve’s skin.</p>
<p>“That’s allowed. You can stay here as long as you like.” Steve took to carding his hand through Bucky’s hair and let himself admire the beautiful sight of his husband dozing on top of him.</p>
<p>He took a mental inventory check of their pantry as Bucky drifted back to sleep, not sure they actually had fruit loops or lucky charms in the house. He also knew that Bucky wouldn’t want just any three-pump caramel macchiato, that would have to be picked up from the coffee shop a few blocks away, which would mean having to put clothes on and venture out to the shops before he could even start cooking, but that was hardly an ordeal.</p>
<p>Steve still didn’t know how he’d been lucky enough to find Bucky, and how he was allowed to share his life with someone as sweet and amazing. That they could get married, live openly and happily, that Steve now had a wider family to call his own. It was everything he’d never dared to hope for. If humouring Bucky’s ridiculous requests for breakfast once a year was the only price he had to pay for that? Well, Steve was more than happy to comply.</p>
<p>Besides, he was a Barnes now too, and he’d have his revenge when July rolled around.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. All I Want</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mob AU / Mob Boss Steve spoils Bucky on his birthday / 1.8k words</p>
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    <em>Prompt from @ImTynamite: Mob Wife!Bucky getting spoiled rotten on his birthday by Mob Boss!Steve? Mayhaps with some shenanigans by the Howlies?</em>
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<p>Steve still wasn’t home. He was meant to have landed back in New York yesterday, but negotiations were taking longer than expected and he was still tied up in meetings with their suppliers halfway around the world. Even if he set off now, he’d still miss most of Bucky’s birthday and Bucky hated it. He hated that Steve had to work so much, that his job demanded so much of his time and energy, that what he did took him away from Bucky for so long. Bucky knew he was being petulant, Steve’s work was important, it wasn’t easy keeping all of Brooklyn safe, bringing in shipments of essential pharmaceuticals so people didn’t die at the hands of America’s terrible healthcare system, securing licenses and business loans for people without the Wall Street connections they might otherwise need.</p>
<p>None of it was technically legal, and Bucky knew there was a shadowy underside to Steve’s businesses which helped grease the wheels and keep everything moving smoothly. But Steve kept Bucky shielded from all of that, and living up in their penthouse suite, enjoying the lofty views over the New York skyline, eating the finest foods, with more fine clothes, cars and jewels than he knew what to do with, it was easy to forget the side of Steve’s business existed. He knew Steve liked to spoil him, and Bucky liked to be spoiled rotten, sometimes requesting the most ridiculous purchases just to see if Steve would humour him—but the one thing Bucky really wanted, was the only thing Steve couldn’t give him: his time.</p>
<p>“Hey, baby, I’m so sorry I’m not there,” Steve said through the phone on the morning of Bucky’s birthday.</p>
<p>Bucky rolled over on the expanse of silk sheets that covered their enormous Alaskan King size bed, which Bucky suspected was bigger than his entire childhood bedroom had been. Sometimes he hated having all that space, it only made it more obvious when Steve wasn’t there to wake up beside him.</p>
<p>“I know you have to work,” he muttered back, trying to keep some of his sadness from his voice.</p>
<p>“I hate being away from you,” Steve whispered into the phone.</p>
<p>“I hate it too.”</p>
<p>“I’ll make it up to you when I’m back,” Steve promised.</p>
<p>“You will?”</p>
<p>“You bet. I’m going to take a whole week off, do nothing but spend time with you. I promise, doll,” Steve crooned.</p>
<p>“Sounds nice.” Bucky kept his hopes guarded. Steve had never taken more than a day off in his life. Even when they managed to take a vacation somewhere tropical and sunny, Steve’s phone was never far sight and work was never far from his mind.</p>
<p>“And I’ve planned a whole day for you today, honey. You’ll be so pampered you won’t even know I’m not there.” Bucky huffed, like that would ever be possible when Bucky missed Steve like half of his heart when they were apart. “Dum Dum will be there to pick you up in an hour and I’ve ordered breakfast from your favourite bakery, it should be delivered any minute.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.” It wasn’t the same though. Bucky heard some muffled talking on the other end of the phone and his heart sunk even further, he wasn’t even going to get a proper conversation with Steve.</p>
<p>“Shit. Sorry, sweetheart. I have to go. But I promise I’ll see you real soon. Happy Birthday, Bucky. I love you.” Steve hung up before Bucky could even respond.</p>
<p>He rolled over again, still nowhere the edge of their fucking ridiculously huge bed, and tried his hardest not to cry. It would only make his face puffy, and even if Steve wasn’t here to see, Bucky wasn’t going to let himself look anything less than 100% his best. Not on his birthday.</p>
<p>When Steve said he had the whole day planned, he hadn’t been joking, shopping and spa treatments—with extra presents and gifts waiting for Bucky at every stop along the way. Everything had been booked for two, evidently, Steve had been <em>planning</em> to join Bucky before work got in the way.</p>
<p>Bucky rang his sister to see if she was free to join him, but, unsurprisingly, she’d assumed Bucky would be busy with Steve. He’d already celebrated his birthday with her the weekend before.</p>
<p>“God, Bucky I’m sorry—I thought he’d’ve swept you off the Maldives or something.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know.”</p>
<p>“I’m on shift all day, I can’t get out of it.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry.” He promised. “I’ll find someone.” But the problem was, Bucky didn’t have anyone else he could call, his friends all had to work for their livings, and none of them were going to be magically free in the middle of the week on a day they’d all assumed Bucky would be busy. Besides, Sam and Clint already distrusted Steve enough as it was, Bucky didn’t want to them know he’d left Bucky high and dry on his birthday.</p>
<p>Which meant he was left with Dum Dum—one of Steve’s right-hand men, who’d been assigned to Bucky’s security and chauffeuring detail when Steve was away. As far as things went, it wasn’t completely terrible. Bucky enjoyed his company, and the guy threw himself into being pampered with more vigour than Bucky would have expected. He had to admit, the sight of Dum Dum with his ridiculous moustache in a face mask and with slices of cucumbers over his eyes was almost worth Becca being busy. It didn’t touch the Bucky’s longing for Steve, though.</p>
<p>After massages that left him jelly limbed and feeling like he was floating on a cloud, manicures, pedicures, a full body scrub, and a mud bath, Bucky definitely felt pampered, and the diamond Rolex and casual thousands of pounds Steve must have spent on the all the new clothes to line his already overflowing closet, made him feel sufficiently spoiled. But Bucky would have traded it all in an instant if he could have had a kiss from Steve.</p>
<p>Steve called him again that evening, as Bucky was driven back from the spa to wherever Steve had planned for him to go next. Dinner reservations somewhere fancy, Bucky guessed, if the new clothes waiting for him in the spa dressing room had been anything to go by.</p>
<p>“I love you,” Steve said in lieu of a greeting when Bucky answered.</p>
<p>“I love you too.”</p>
<p>“Did you have a good birthday?”</p>
<p>“Would have preferred it if you were here,” Bucky answered honestly, there was never any point in lying to Steve. “But I enjoyed the spa, thank you.”</p>
<p>“Sorry I wasn’t there. I’m coming back real soon, I promise.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“I miss you.”</p>
<p>“I miss you too, sweetheart.”</p>
<p>Bucky took some comfort in that. He slumped down in the soft leather seat of the limo and flicked idly at his nails. “Where am I heading now?”</p>
<p>“Home.” That surprised Bucky, but he didn’t argue. Dining alone wasn’t exactly his idea of fun and Steve had probably guessed that. Steve stayed on the phone with him for the rest of the journey, letting Bucky know how the meetings had gone—apparently, things weren’t as wrapped up as he’d hoped, and he might have to go back in a few weeks to iron some more details out. “After our week together, of course.”</p>
<p>“What are going to do?”</p>
<p>“I thought we could go away somewhere. Just us. Anywhere you want.”</p>
<p>“Somewhere sunny,” Bucky answered immediately. “By the sea, with a private beach.”</p>
<p>“Naturally.” Steve laughed. “I’ll get Nat to find something.”</p>
<p>“Hm, she has good taste,” Bucky agreed. He was pretty sure Natasha had been behind booking most of Bucky’s itinerary for the day. They threw ideas back and forth until the Dum Dum dropped Bucky back off at his apartment building, but even then, Steve told him to stay on the line as Bucky trooped passed the concierge and hopped into the private elevator up to their penthouse. “You promise I’ll see you soon?” Bucky asked as the elevator climbed the floors. He didn’t like the idea of being left alone in the empty apartment for too much longer.</p>
<p>“Real soon,” Steve promised, with something sly lurking in his tone. If they’d been on facetime, Bucky was sure Steve would have been smirking. Before Bucky could push Steve for just how soon, the elevator dinged open in their foyer and Bucky was confronted with Steve’s sly smirk in person.</p>
<p>“Oh!” Bucky let his phone clatter to the floor and leapt at Steve, trusting Steve to catch him and wrapping his arms and legs around Steve to hug him tight.</p>
<p>“Hi Bucky, happy birthday,” Steve spoke against Bucky’s jaw and began kissing every part of him he could reach whilst Bucky tucked his head into Steve’s shoulder and clung to him so tightly like he feared Steve might vanish if he let go.</p>
<p>“How?” he finally asked.</p>
<p>“You sounded so upset this morning, honey, it broke my heart.” Steve splayed his hands around Bucky’s back and held him close. “I got on the first flight I could, I just got back.”</p>
<p>“But the contracts?”</p>
<p>“Screw them. Nothing’s more important than you. I shouldn’t’ve let them drag on as it was, I should’ve come home to you yesterday.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you should’ve,” Bucky agreed, but there was no heat to his voice. That was all water under the bridge as far as he was concerned, Steve was here now and that’s all that mattered. He gripped his legs around Steve’s waist and leant back to he could finally see Steve’s face properly. Even travel-worn and tired, he was the most handsome man Bucky had ever seen. “I love you.”</p>
<p>“I love you too.” Steve kissed him properly and Bucky melted into it. “There’s still a few hours left of your birthday, how’d you want to spend it?”</p>
<p>Bucky’s answer was simple, “with you.”</p>
<p>“I can uncancel our reservation at Per Se?” Steve offered, but Bucky shook his head. “What do you want?”</p>
<p>“I want your mac and cheese, and I want to curl up on the couch with you.” Steve didn’t cook, not really, but his mac and cheese was the stuff of legend and Bucky’s ultimate comfort food. Steve looked at Bucky like he was mad for choosing Steve’s home cooking over the most exclusive restaurant in New York, but Bucky knew what he liked and Steve was not about to argue.</p>
<p>“That can be arranged.”</p>
<p>“I just want you, Steve. That’s all I want,” Bucky said as unwound his legs from Steve’s waist and slid slowly back to the floor. “That’s all I ever want.”</p>
<p>Steve brushed Bucky’s hair back from his forehead and swooped in to give him another long, toe-tingling kiss. “I know. I’ll do better, from now on, I promise I’ll try and do better.” He looked so earnest and sincere, and for the first time, Bucky actually believed him. “I promise I’ll give you more time,” he said and kissed Bucky again, which was the best present Bucky could ever ask for.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please leave a comment if you can!</p><p>I'm on <a href="https://twitter.com/astrobucky">Twitter</a> and <a href="https://trenchcoatsandtimetravel.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a> come and say hi and talk headcanons with me 😊💙</p></blockquote></div></div>
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